The Pregnancy of Margaret Houlihan
by Jedicren
Summary: Set six weeks after "Comrades in Arms." Margaret discovers some unsettling news. As she and Hawkeye come to terms with their actions and face an uncertain future, they learn that life doesn't always go according to plan. Completed!
1. Chapter 1

Title: The Pregnancy of Margaret Houlihan

Description: Set six weeks after "Comrades in Arms," Margaret discovers some unsettling news. As she and Hawkeye come to terms with their actions, they learn that some things do not go according to plan.

Timeline: Six-weeks after "Comrades in Arms"

* * *

 **02:00**

Captain Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce fought to keep his eyes open. "Suture," he said as one of the nurses dabbed his brow with a towel.

No answer.

"Major Houlihan?" He looked across the table. Major Margaret Houlihan was staring at the equipment, unblinking. Hawkeye wondered at first if she was having some type of absence seizure. The woman was known for many things and drifting off to la-la-land mid-surgery was not one of them. He squinted through the early morning OR haze at her pupils. _Equal, round, reactive_ , he thought.

Hawkeye waited a beat, until, "Margaret?"

She startled. "Sorry, Doctor." Momentarily fumbling, she clipped the 2-0 catgut with a pair of hemostats and handed it to him handle first.

He eyed her suspiciously. From somewhere behind him, he could hear BJ Hunnicutt and Colonel Potter vigorously humming some unnamed fight song, probably in a last ditch effort to stay awake in the 29th hour of surgery. "You okay?" he asked Margaret, "you're liable to burn a hole in the sterile field if you look at those pick-ups any harder."

"What are you babbling about?"

"I swear you didn't blink for a whole five minutes."

"Would you worry less about my blinking and more about closing this patient so we can go to bed?" She held the suture material up as he threw his last stitch and handed him scissors with her free hand.

"That sounds like an invitation." He finished his square knot and snipped the suture.

Margaret opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by BJ.

"You walked right into that one, Major." He pulled his mask down and grinned across the table at Hawkeye. "I'm finished. Who else wants to join Major Houlihan in bed?"

"Enough, all of you!" Colonel Potter snapped off his gloves and motioned for Corporal Klinger to carry his patient to post-op. "We're all running low on fuel after 29 straight hours of wounded. Everyone needs to get cleaned up and hit the hay."

"Colonel, I was just—." Hawkeye started.

"Hawkeye, I don't give a rat's ass what you were just about to say," Potter said, "To bed! And that's an order." He got halfway across the OR before adding, "ALONE!"

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Margaret stepped outside of the OR tent and took a deep breath. The air was warm and a cool night breeze kissed her bare arms as she made her way toward her tent.

"Margaret?"

She pretended not to hear, concentrating instead on how many steps were between her and the door. Once safely there, she would be able to put one more day behind her. Only a few more feet…

"Margaret, will you hold on a second?" Hawkeye's voice was insistent and he sounded winded; his feet jogging softly toward her. "I don't think I've seen someone walk that fast since I accidently lit Dorothy Grable's pants on fire in the third grade." A few seconds later, he was standing between her and the door to her tent. "What's going on?" His surgical hat was gone, but his mask hung loosely around his neck and he was still wearing his scrub bottoms.

Looking at his lean form, something inside of her stirred. Pushing it back down, Margaret rolled her eyes and moved past him, "I am following orders, Captain," she said brusquely. "Colonel Potter said bed, and that's what I am doing." She stepped through the door, followed closely by Pierce, who was not giving up so easily. Putting her hand on her hip, she turned to face him. "And I suggest you do the same."

"I suggest you tell me what's bothering you _before_ you implode," he replied, taking a seat at the boudoir table and tapping his fingers on the wood.

"Nothing is bothering me except you, Pierce."

"I just don't believe that," he said with a shake of his head.

"And why the hell not?"

"Your eyes."

"My… _what?_ "

"Your eyes give it all away, Margaret." He crossed his legs at the ankles and leaned forward. "I'll have you know that I have spent an extraordinary amount of time looking at people's eyes above their surgical masks and I am now an _expert_ at deciphering emotions based solely on whether the eyes are smiling or not."

Margaret let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "And what do mine say?"

Hawkeye's expression changed. He was quiet for a minute, before, "They're scared."

"You're full of it." She turned away and crossed her arms, absent-mindedly rubbing at the goose bumps that had suddenly appeared.

"Margaret," he said softly, "tell me."

She felt a tear roll down her cheek and wiped it away with the back of her hand. "I think…" she choked on her words, unable to finish.

"You think too-."

"I think I might be pregnant."

Silence.

"It hasn't been that time of the month since… before last month." She let out a breath and after a few more seconds, turned back toward Hawkeye, who was looking at her with a perplexed expression.

"But that's wonderful," he said after a beat, "You'll have little Penobscott's running around… the pitter patter of little Lieutenant General feet."

She swallowed and looked down at her wedding ring, spinning it with a finger. When she had realized that her monthly… gift was two weeks late, it didn't take long to figure out what had happened. They had been alone for hours in that abandoned hut—scared, wounded, unsure if they'd make it out alive. Neither she or Pierce had given any thought to what came next until… what came next. They survived, made it back to the 4077, and had managed to become unlikely friends. But this….

"Major…"

She looked up. Her cheeks were wet. She didn't realize she was crying. Margaret cleared her throat and took another breath, staring into his blue eyes. "I haven't been on R&R with Donald in sixteen weeks, Captain."

His eyes were saucers. "How…"

"You have a medical degree, Pierce," she said, cutting him off, "I don't need to explain _how this happens._ " The expression on his face softened her, and she added, "Neither one of us was thinking. It's not completely your fault."

"I think I need to sit down."

"You are sitting down," she said.

"I think I need to lie down."

Margaret grabbed him as he stood suddenly, swaying. He dragged a hand down his jaw and steadied himself on her shoulder. "I think…" he started to say. "I think 29 hours in surgery is too long. I think I can't think anymore." He pulled at the surgical mask still tied around his neck. "This thing is choking me."

She reached around to the back of his neck and undid the strings.

"Major, that is how we got into this mess!" Hawkeye leapt backward.

"I was just taking your mask off, Captain," she spat.

"First the mask, then the clothes," he raked a hand through his hair, "but we don't have to worry about that now, because you're already preg-." He stopped mid-rant and turned back to face her. "Pregnant," he finished.

She met his eyes and nodded.

* * *

 _To be continued..._

This is my first fanfic in a long time and my first M*A*S*H story. Let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Pregnancy of Margaret Houlihan

Chapter: 2

* * *

"You have to promise nothing will happen to her!" Radar was holding his rabbit, scratching under her chin.

"Radar, I've never done surgery on a rabbit before," Hawkeye said. "I am a human doctor, not a veterinarian."

"Sir, the only way I am handing Fluffy over to you is if you swear you'll be handing her back to me alive!"

Hawkeye sighed. "Fine, I swear on my Father's grave." He lifted the rabbit carefully out of Radar's arms.

"You're Father is alive, Hawkeye!"

"And Fluffy will be too," he replied, stroking her head, "A little morphine, a little surgical removal of the ovaries, and she'll be good as new."

"And you're sure you can't tell me what this is about? I promise I won't say nothin'." Radar reached over and rubbed Fluffy's head affectionately. The rabbit burrowed down further in Hawkeye's arms, looking quite content.

Hawkeye placed her on the exam table and uncapped the pre-filled syringe with one hand. "One of the nurses might be pregnant," he said as he slowly injected the rabbit. "But we need to know for sure before telling anyone."

"Well that's wonderful!" He fidgeted and adjusted his hat, clearly excited. "A baby! This place is always filled with people getting hurt and stuff. It's nice to hear some good news."

"Yeah," he plastered a smile on and gritted his teeth. "Wonderful." He hoped Radar would miss the sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Oh! We should have a party," he said. "You know, so… whoever it is knows how excited we are..." Radar's trailed off suddenly and he and looked up at the sky through the laboratory window.

"Don't say it…"

"Choppers."

"You said it." Hawkeye recapped the needle and tossed it into the sharps' box.

"Sounds heavy," he said, lifting Fluffy off the table and placing her back into the cage. "It's gonna be a long night, Captain."

Radar hurried across the room and pushed open the doors, Hawkeye a few steps behind. Behind the door, he almost ran head-on into Margaret, waiting outside.

"Choppers," he said.

"I didn't hear any—," she started to say. Overhead, two choppers appeared, flying toward the helipad. Quickening her steps, she hustled behind Hawkeye. "Is it done?"

He nodded. "Just a waiting game now." They walked across the compound and stopped as two ambulances pulled up and started unloading wounded soldiers. Turning to Margaret, he offered a small smile, "No rest for the weary… or for the possibly pregnant."

"Quiet, Pierce!" She snapped, leaping forward and covering his mouth with her hand. Looking around to make sure nobody was in earshot, she let him go. "Someone might hear and think I'm a… a… hussy."

"Margaret," he said in a lowered voice, "you're a married person. Nobody is going to use that word." He stepped in closer, "let's not get our panties in a bunch without cause. We don't even know if you're…" he looked around and made the sign of an enlarged belly, "with child."

Just then, BJ rounded the corner and cleared his throat, "What's the big secret?" he said, looking at them expectantly and kneeling down in front of a wounded soldier, unbuttoning his shirt and inspecting the wound. "Chest," he said, "Prep him."

"There's no secret," Margaret said, stepping away from Hawkeye and looking at him pointedly. "Just don't worry about it, Captain Hunnicutt." Turning on her heel, she walked quickly away, heading toward the OR.

BJ stopped and looked up at his comrade. "What's eating her?"

Hawkeye did his best to look nonchalant, "No idea." He squatted next to an African-American marine and took a hold of his wrist, counting the pulse.

"It looked like the two of you were in deep conversation," BJ pressed. He moved closer to Hawkeye and pulled the soldier's pant leg up, exposing a deep laceration to the lateral tibia. "Open fracture," he said after a minute. "Give him 2 liters normal saline and put him in pre-op."

Two corporals responded quickly, each lifting a side of the stretcher, and carried the man toward the OR entrance.

BJ and Hawkeye stood, facing each other. Hawkeye wiped the dust off his palms and they turned to head toward OR.

"You wanna talk about something?" BJ asked.

Hawkeye laced his hands behind his neck and shrugged. "Maybe. When there's something to talk about." He pushed the OR door open and grabbed a pair of scrubs.

"So there's nothing going on?"

Pulling the bottoms on, he fumbled momentarily with his left boot and swore under his breath. "I never said there was nothing going on, just that I currently have nothing to say about it."

"Because if there was something going on, I just want you to know that there's someone here to talk about it with." BJ grinned before tying the strings of his mask behind his head and stepping toward the sink to scrub.

Hawkeye followed suit, "Well, rest assured, Beej, when I know what's going on…"

"So there is something…"

"And I decide to talk about it, you'll be the first person to know," he finished.

"You bozos are making my head spin," Colonel Potter's voice startled the pair. "Is there something going on that _I_ should know about?"

Hawkeye turned the sink off with an elbow and shook his head, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Colonel."

BJ snorted.

"Alright, alright," Potter said, "Let's get this over with. Chopper pilot says it's gonna be a long night."

* * *

 _Ten hours later…_ _  
_  
"Hawkeye," came a whisper.

He grumbled something unintelligible and pulled his blanket over his head.

"Hawkeye!"

Rolling over, he squinted into the darkness and found Radar hovering over him, face inches from his own.

"Radar, I fell asleep three minutes ago. What could you possibly want?"

"One of your patients in post-op isn't doin' so good," he said hurriedly, "The nurse said his heart rate is fast and his blood pressure is dropping."

Hawkeye leapt up, knocking Radar backward, "Next time, lead with that." He fumbled around on the floor for his boots and crammed his feet down into them while hopping toward the door. On the way out, he threw on what he thought was his bathrobe, but ended up being a dirty lab coat.

"Pierce, could you please keep it down," came Charles voice.

"I wish these patients would let me stay down," he retorted on the way out the door, "in my bed!"

He and Radar made their way across the quiet compound. Inside the OR, he found Margaret sitting on the edge of a patient's bed, holding a cold washcloth to his forehead. "Low-grade temp," she said. "I've given him fluid, but his BP is still 70/40, pulse 150's. He lost consciousness a few minutes ago and his breathing is labored."

Hawkeye rubbed his eyes and looked over the chart. "Leg fracture…" he said, thinking out loud, "I wonder if it's a pulmonary embolism."

Radar squeaked, "A pulmonary embolism?" he said loudly. "But sirs, we can't fix that!"

"No, but maybe…" Hawkeye was cut off by the soldier's sudden gasp of air.

"He's not breathing, Captain!" Margaret said as she stood and pulled the blankets off, uncovering him. Quickly, she bent down and checked for a pulse. "No pulse."

Hawkeye jumped on the chest and started pumping, suddenly completely awake. "Radar, grab the cart," he shouted, nodding to the small red cart in the corner of the room. "I need epinephrine and the bag-valve-mask."

Radar was back in seconds, rolling the cart toward the bed. Margaret wasted no time, tearing into the bag and pulling out the BVM. Tossing it to Radar, she said, "10-12 breaths per minute."

"But sir… I mean, ma'am, I can't… I mean… I'm not…." he panicked.

"Do exactly what I say, Corporal," she demanded, "You have to breathe for him."

Radar brought the equipment to the head of the bed, took a deep breath, sealed the mask over the man's face and squeezed.

"His chest is rising!" Hawkeye said, still depressing the chest. "Good work!"

Margaret, in the meantime, was drawing up the epinephrine. "If it is a clot, Captain, this isn't going to do it."

Hawkeye nodded and watched as she injected the patient with the medication. "I know," he replied. "But we have to try."

They waited a few seconds before Margaret asked him to stop and checked a pulse. She shook her head. "Want to switch?"

He started CPR again, "No, you shouldn't be… you know… in your condition."

"I am completely capable of pumping a chest, Captain!"

"Just give another round of Epi, Major. We can debate restrictions at another time."

And so it went. Hawkeye gave the soldier three rounds of Adrenalin and two pericardial thumps without any response. Ten minutes later, he was covered in sweat, hair plastered to his face. Margaret checked her watch and gently touched his arm. She motioned for Radar to stop bagging.

"It's over, Hawkeye," she said.

He stopped CPR and stood. "Damnit."

Margaret pulled the blanket back over the marine, covering his face and head. "Corporal," she said, "Go wake Father Mulcahy. He'll want to do last rights."

Radar nodded and hurried toward the door.

Hawkeye tore his lab coat off, exposing a sweat stained t-shirt underneath, dog tags swinging as he strode purposefully across the OR and out into the night. Margaret followed, jogging to keep up. "Hawkeye!" she called.

He didn't slow. Rounding the corner of the Mess tent, he stopped suddenly and kicked at the dirt. "Damnit!" he hollered again.

"Shhh," she hushed, "You're going to wake the whole camp up."

"He was just a kid!" he threw his arms into the air. "Just a kid with a leg wound! A leg wound, Margaret!" Hawkeye sounded incredulous; like he couldn't believe something so simple, so _ridiculously_ simple could have possibly caused a patient to die. He sat down heavily on a bench, folding forward into himself, head in hands.

Margaret moved forward, crossing the distance between them, and sat down next to him. "You can't save every one of them, Captain." She reached out and laid a hand on his back, cold sweat under her fingertips. He looked defeated.

A few seconds later, he sat up and sighed heavily. "Death is hiding around every corner—infection, embolism, hemorrhage—even if they make it out of surgery, there's a hundred more ways to die around here." Turning to look at her, he reached up and touched her face, thumb massaging her temple, fingers weaving through her hair.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up. He was so close; she could feel his breath on her face. She felt a fluttering in her chest that was all too familiar and pulled herself back, away from his eyes, away from his lips, away from… all of him.

They sat there, looking at one another for a few seconds before he spoke again. "Thanks," he said. "He'd have been a lot worse off if you weren't there."

"It certainly didn't make much of a difference."

"It did to him." Hawkeye rubbed the back of his neck for a few seconds, trying to form the words he needed to say next. A minute went by before he found his courage. "Look, Margaret," he started, staring ahead into the darkness, "I just… you need to know that I'm sorry."

She sighed and turned to face forward, running a hand through her hair and tucking it behind her ear. "Pierce, it's not your fault—people die…"

"Not about that," he said softly.

"Oh."

"About the other thing."

"Oh."

"You remember the other thing?"

She rolled her eyes and nodded, "You don't have to say it."

"Yes, I do." He stood up and held out his hands. "It seems I have been messing up all kinds of stuff lately... that I don't normally mess up. In fact, this… type of mess up has never happened to me before."

"Well, it was bound to happen to you eventually." She raised her eyebrows and looked up at him.

"I feel like that's an attack on my character," he said.

She took his outstretched hands and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. "Well. If the shoe fits."

"Come here," he said, pulling her toward him. Hawkeye wrapped his arms around her, giving her a squeeze. "Whatever this is… whatever you need from me, I'll do. Just call it another notch in the friendship belt."

She rolled her eyes but didn't pull back.

He loosened his grip ever so slightly and looked at her, pushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. They stood, faces inches apart. Margaret held her breath as he leaned forward slowly. Softly, their lips met for a few brief seconds before…

"Ahem…"

They broke apart and stepped backward, widening the gap between their bodies. A few steps away stood Father Mulcahy, arms crossed, looking at the pair with a mix of anger and confusion.

"I performed last rights for your patient," he said, looking at Hawkeye.

The surgeon ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. "Thank you, Father."

After a beat, Father Mulcahy added, "I am sure the two of you were on your way to bed and I'd hate to… interrupt you."

Hawkeye and Margaret started backing away slowly.

"Goodnight, Father," Hawkeye said.

"Captain Pierce," he said.

Hawkeye stopped and turned back slowly, internally wincing. "Yeah?"

"I think maybe we need to talk. Tomorrow sound okay to you?" He furrowed his brow, not waiting for the answer. "I'll see you for confession at 18:00."

"Yes, Father," he mumbled, glancing back momentarily toward Margaret, making her way toward her tent.

"And Hawkeye?"

"Yes, Father?" he asked.

"I will stay right here and make sure the two of you get to bed safely."

And so he stood there, alone in the road, until both Margaret and Hawkeye were out of sight.

* * *

Hawkeye was spared having to confess his sins, as a seemingly endless stream of wounded flooded the compound over the next few days. The hours were filled with rounds, surgery, and minimal sleep. Finally, a few hours after the last helicopter had landed and the last soldier was sutured closed, he was able to sneak away and perform his (hopefully) final surgical procedure of the day: a bilateral salpingo-oopherectomy… on Radar's rabbit. Thankfully, the whole thing went smoothly and he was able to return Fluffy to her owner without incident. Radar, in turn, was happy that Hawkeye was able to keep his promise. Now, he and Margaret sat side by side at the microscope as he adjusted the fine focus and studied the tissue, flipping between lenses every few minutes.

"Well?"

He sighed and pushed the microscope toward the wall, leaning back in the chair. "No matter which way I look at it, the answer doesn't change."

Margaret inhaled sharply. "And you're sure?"

He nodded, looking up at the ceiling. "Accuracy is the great part about the rabbit test. Unfortunately, it's also the worst part of the rabbit test in our case."

She leaned back heavily in the chair and shook her head. "Well there goes my army career. How could I be so… stupid?"

"My sentiments exactly." He turned off the microscope, collected the slides, and tossed them in the sharps' bin. After wiping everything down and placing the cover back on, he crammed his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the wall, not knowing what to do or say next.

After a minute, Margaret stood to face him.

"I guess I should offer my congratulations." He regretted saying it as soon as the words left his mouth.

"That's the last thing I need, Captain," she snapped.

"Look, this isn't easy for me either, _Major_ ," he snapped back, mimicking her tone.

"What part of this won't be _easy_ for you, Pierce?" she asked, voice starting to rise. "The part where you get to stay here? The part where I have to go back home, disgraced, pregnant, and alone?"

"Margaret…"

"Don't _Margaret_ me!" She shouted.

"At least you _have_ a say!" he shouted back

"What are you talking about?"

"Only you get to decide what to do, Major," he said, pointing a finger at her. "You're a married woman. You could easily make this go away by telling Donald he's about to be a father. Go home and wait for the end of his army career… play the adorable little housewife and live happily ever after."

"Lie to him for the rest of our lives, you mean?" She huffed and put a hand on her hips. "I suppose that's what you want. Get out of this easily. Return to your pathetic, alcoholic, womanizing ways!"

"That's not fair…"

"This situation _isn't fair!"_

"If lying means less grief for you, then I'll do it! I'll do whatever it takes to cause you the least amount of pain, Margaret."

"It's a little late for that now, Captain."

They stood across from one another, breathing heavily, for a few seconds before Hawkeye spoke again. "Yeah," he said. "I guess you're right." He crossed the room and opened the door to the lab before turning back toward Margaret and adding, "I'm sorry. Really, I am." He left her standing there, red-faced and glassy eyed, and stalked across the empty OR suite. Outside, the bright sun beat down, searing into his retinas. Halfway to The Swamp, he glimpsed Father Mulkahy stepping out of the Mess Tent. Picking up his pace, he pretended not to see him.

"Hawkeye!"

He groaned, "Lord have mercy."

"I heard that!"

Hawkeye pushed the door open to the tent, not bothering to hold it open for the priest, now hot on his heels. Crossing the space in a few steps, he grabbed a glass.

The door swung open and Father Mulkahy admitted himself, expression grim. "Captain Pierce, I have been looking for you everywhere."

"Now's not the best time, Father," he said, pouring gin into his glass and taking a long drink. He winced.

"We need to talk about what I saw the other night!" Father Mulkahy sat down on the edge of Hawkeye's bed and took off his hat. His bright eyes looked sad, expression worried. "Captain, I am concerned about the wellbeing of your soul."

"My soul would thank you," he replied, raising his glass in the air, "But, I am busy drowning it.

"This is no laughing matter, Hawkeye!"

"Who's laughing?" he asked.

Mulkahy lost his composure momentarily, throwing his hat down on the floor and shouting, "She's married!"

Hawkeye finished his martini in one long swig and poured himself a second glass. "Trust me, Father, this is so much worse then you think it is." He held the pitcher in the air, "You sure you don't want to indulge?"

Father Mulkahy held his hand up and shook his head.

"Fine, more for me." He sat down in an empty chair, facing the priest.

"The Lord forgives all transgressions, Captain," the Father said, "Especially those of the flesh."

Hawkeye sunk further back into his chair, "I'm not worried about the Lord, Father. I'm worried about everyone else I care about. I've really screwed up this time."

Mulkahy patted Hawkeye's knee and chuckled, "One slip up is not enough to send you into the hell-fire, Captain. Please, you can confide in me."

Taking another big swallow and emptying the glass, he set it down next to the still. "Okay, here we go. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It's been _…_ oh, who am I kidding. I've never been a first confession, much less a last one."

Father Mulkahy nodded. "Go on."

"Fine." He rested his head on his hand for minute, thinking of how to put his thoughts into words. He had a feeling that the man would not rest until he had divulged. His heart was in the right place. "I had a moment of weakness while Margaret and I were lost behind the front lines," he said. "You know, my flesh… and her flesh… and the sin."

"Oh."

"I'm not done yet."

"Oh. Well… go on then."

Hawkeye took a deep breath, stood up, and began to pace. "Father, I… Margaret's pregnant…." He raked a hand through his hair.

"You… sinned in the flesh with a married, pregnant woman?" he let out a long breath, "Hawkeye… I… I don't know what to say!"

"Apparently I need to be more clear." He turned to face the priest, "Margaret is pregnant with my child, Father." He leaned against the support beam, adding, "And still married to somebody else."

"Oh."

"Now you see the predicament."

"I think… I might need to take a little break for today, Captain. I need to put some prayer into my… response."

"Probably a good idea."

"I… if you'll excuse me," he grabbed his hat off the floor, brushed off the dirt, and placed it back on his head. Before leaving, he added, "I will be praying for you, Hawkeye."

"Thanks," he said.

* * *

Apparently this was not in-canon enough, so I won't be putting up the last chapter. Glad I had so many readers, sorry I couldn't make it more realistic! Hope you find something else you like!


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** The Pregnancy of Margaret Houlihan

 **Chapter:** 3

* * *

BJ returned to The Swamp a few hours after Father Mulkahy left. Hawkeye, for his part, was sitting in a chair, feet propped up on his trunk, fiddling with an empty martini glass and staring at the ceiling.

"Ready to talk about it now?" BJ asked, pulling his lab coat off and tossing it on his cot.

Hawkeye reached over to the still, grabbed a second glass and tossed it lightly to BJ. "You're gonna need this," he said.

BJ filled both glasses and sat heavily on Hawkeye's bed, across from him. "I'm ready."

"Take a couple drinks first," he said.

BJ raised his glass and took a swig. "How many of these have you had?"

"I lost track."

He grimaced and took another long drink, waiting for Hawkeye to start talking.

"Margaret is pregnant," he said after a minute.

"Well that's-."

"Wonderful," he finished for him. "That's what I said when she told me," he said, "But I'm not sitting alone in The Swamp with a bottle of gin celebrating." Hawkeye crossed his legs and spun his glass in circles by the stem, staring at it. "It's mine."

BJ let out a whistle.

"My sentiments exactly."

"That explains why Radar's rabbit is in Post-op." He set his drink down on Hawkeye's trunk and leaned his elbows on his knees. "And you're sure it's yours?"

He nodded. "It's been a while… a long while since she was on R & R with…"

"Donald."

"Right. Him."

"What are you going to do?"

Hawkeye leaned forward and grabbed the pitcher from the table, held it up and, smirking, gave it a small shake. "Drink."

BJ took it out of his hand lightly. "You know what I mean, Hawk."

"What _can_ I do, Beej? She's married! To somebody else!" He stood and moved toward the window, leaned against the wooden pane and stared out into the compound.

BJ shook his head, "Until Donald finds out."

"Oh, come on. What would _you_ do in her situation?" Hawkeye asked, throwing out an arm and motioning toward Margaret's tent. "Admit that you were… _sustained_ by another man and are now pregnant with his child? Become a divorced, single parent?" Hawkeye turned back toward BJ. "She'd be better off telling him that he's about to be a father."

"I hope you didn't say this to her."

"Of course I did!" He slumped back down in the chair. Seeing BJ's expression, added, "I only said what she's probably thinking."

"Hawk, are you saying this because you _want_ her to choose him or because you're scared of what will happen if she chooses you?"

"Chooses me?" He let out a short laugh. "Right now, the choice is Donald or not-Donald."

"So you don't want to be with her?"

"I don't know _what_ I want, BJ!" He ran his palm down his face and looked up at the ceiling. "This doesn't change how different we are, how much we argue, how delicately balanced our friendship is already."

BJ filled his glass again and handed it back.

"She wants the army. She wants a high-ranking husband, prestige, olive-drab." He spun his dog tags around his neck and took a long sip of his martini. "I'm a draftee-surgeon from Maine that wants nothing more than to leave this war and never look back."

"You haven't said anything about wanting a baby."

"Of course I want kids," he said without hesitation. "I always assumed it would be after the war—I'd be back in Maine… married with an adorable little wife… you know, barefoot and pregnant." He swallowed another drink and added, "her, barefoot and pregnant. Not me."

BJ chuckled. "Have you told her that?"

"One has very little to do with the other, BJ." Hawkeye shifted his weight and crossed his legs at the ankles.

"Don't you think she should know what you want?" He leaned forward, forcing Hawkeye to look him in the eye. "You expect her to make a decision about both your lives with nothing to go on. Be honest, Hawk. It's not the ideal situation, but that doesn't mean there can't be an ideal outcome."

Hawkeye drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, thinking.

"Imagine having to make a decision like this, completely alone, knowing full-well it will completely change the course of your life. Then imagine how much easier it would be knowing someone else would be there with you."

He realized BJ was right; she had to know what he wanted, even if the outcome was the same.

* * *

A few days after the rabbit test and the blow up with Pierce, Margaret woke up feeling thoroughly ill. _This is it_ , she thought, _undeniable proof_. As she dry heaved into her trash, she made the decision. Not only could she _not_ go through this alone, she absolutely would not return back home divorced and pregnant with another man's child. After collecting herself, dabbing at her face with a cold washcloth, she set off to find Radar and ask (nicely) if he would place a call to Donald.

* * *

Radar handed the telephone to Major Houlihan and backed away slowly. He wasn't sure what the urgency was (although it seemed to _always_ be emergent where Margaret was involved), but she had threatened him within an inch of his life and he finally gave in.

"Donald!" she shouted into the phone, "Oh, darling, it's so good to hear your voice." There was a few seconds of silence before, "Yes, I know you're busy…"

Radar's eavesdropping took a sudden turn for the worse when the personnel files he was sorting through slipped out of his hand and hit the floor with a loud _THUD._

Margaret jumped and whipped around to face him. "Corporal!" she yelled, "Some privacy, please!"

He fumbled with the papers on the floor, gathered them into his arms and crammed them into the filing cabinet.

Margaret turned her back on him once more. "Donald, I have some _wonderful_ news!" She listened for a few seconds before adding, "No, of course you can go first."

Radar tried to close the drawer, but the files were sticking halfway out and it wouldn't latch.

"RADAR!" she howled.

He let out a squeak and slammed the cabinet shut.

"A promotion would be wonderful, I agree," Margaret was saying, "But you shouldn't get so excited about something that hasn't happened yet."

Radar slipped through the door, hovering momentarily. There was a brief silence before the Major said anything again. He peaked through the window of the door, mentally scolding himself for continuing to listen.

"I am very happy for you, Donald, but I need to get off the line." She tapped her fingers against the desk for a few seconds. "No, it was nothing. This news certainly topped what I was going to tell you." She stood, still listening, "We'll talk another time. Goodbye, Donald." Without waiting for a response, she jammed the telephone down in the holster and leaned forward onto the desk with both knuckles and let out a small sound, like a sob.

"Radar?"

He almost hit the ceiling; Hawkeye's voice came out of nowhere. He spun around to face him, almost knocking himself out on a low hanging shelf. "I wasn't eavesdropping, Sir!"

Hawkeye raised his eyebrows. "Eavesdropping on who?"

"Major Houlihan, Sir."

"Radar, quit calling me 'Sir'. What's going on?" He looked over Radar's shoulder through the window. Margaret was still facing away, leaning over the desk.

"I don't know." He took his hat off and wrung it with his hands before replacing it on top of his head. "She sounded excited, said she had some big news to tell Lt. Colonel Penobscott."

Hawkeye waited. "And the big news was…?"

"I don't know, Sir—I mean, Captain." Radar shrugged, "she didn't tell him anything. Hung up and…."

"And…?"

Radar looked around nervously, turning toward the door momentarily to make sure Margaret wasn't about to walk through it. "She sounded like she was crying."

"Crying seems strange for happy news," he said.

"That's what I thought."

"Radar, do you think you could give me a minute alone with Major Houlihan?"

"Sure, Hawkeye. Is there anything I can do?"

"Watch the door for a few minutes," he said. "I doubt she wants anyone else to know she was crying into the telephone."

"Right. I'll be just outside."

Hawkeye pushed open the door and quietly slipped through. Margaret, startled, turned to face him, tears glistening on her cheeks.

"Hi."

"Not now, Hawkeye." She wiped at her eyes with the palms of her hands and made a move to walk past him.

"Margaret, would you just… would you just stop for a minute?" It came out more harshly than he had intended.

"I was just about to tell him," she said, stopping to look at him momentarily. "It would be so easy, but I can't do it. I can't live the rest of my life knowing it's all a big lie." She raised her chin, "So, move out of my way, Captain."

"I want kids," he blurted out.

There was silence for a few beats.

She blinked. "Congratulations."

"Look, the things I said… the other night," he started, "I… this isn't easy for me either. I have ruined your marriage, possibly your life… and I would really _really_ like to stop all the ruining."

"You didn't ruin my marriage," she said. "We did that ourselves."

"Whatever the case, I need you to know that I've always wanted children. Maybe not right at this second, but I always assumed it would be part of my future." He leaned against Radar's desk. "If that time is now, I think I'm okay with that."

A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. "Sorry," she said. "I don't think I've cried this much in my whole life."

"Come here," he said, holding out his hands.

She let him wrap his arms around her. He rested his head on hers, rubbing her back gently. They stayed that way until her breathing was even, eyes dry. Hawkeye kissed the top of her head and breathed in the scent of her hair. For the first time, a fleeting thought of a shared life passed through his mind; Margaret waiting for him back home, a house, a dark-haired toddler waddling toward him on shaky legs…. She looked up at him briefly, blue eyes searching his, lips so close. His body was involuntarily responding to her and he couldn't stop himself from leaning in, closing the small gap between their lips, hers soft beneath his own.

He cupped the back of her head and felt her arms tighten around his waist, pulling him closer. It felt so familiar, like the crash of two magnets that were suddenly barreling toward one another with an intensity he'd only felt once before. He let his other hand twist into her blonde hair, feeling the softness beneath his fingertips. Her lips parted slightly, allowing him to deepen the kiss for a moment before…

"Hawk," she breathed, pulling back slightly. "I can't…"

His own breathing was uneven and her words barely registered.

"We can't, I mean."

Hawkeye let out a breath and tried to collect his thoughts. "Can't do _what_ , Margaret?" His fingers were still in her hair, thumb rubbing the side of her face gently. "Because if you're talking about what I think you're talking about… quite frankly, that ship has sailed."

"It's not that I don't want to… because I do," she explained, still wrapped in his arms. "But the two of us are…"

"Different."

She nodded. "Yes. I'll be going back home and you'll be here; I would never ask you to… wait for something that may never work."

He leaned against the desk again, his arms still around her waist. "That's very diplomatic of you, Margaret, but I'm not some virile teenager. I have been known to control myself occasionally."

Margaret snorted.

"No really," he argued, "When pushed, I can deliver!"

"Hawkeye," she ran her hands up his chest and gave his shoulders a squeeze. "I think we're both going to be pushed enough. Let's go easy on ourselves."

He let out a breath of air. "Alright, Major, have it your way." He let her go and sank back onto the desk. "But there's something else I want to ask you."

She raised her eyebrows, eyes wide. "I'm already married…"

He waved his hand in dismissal, "Not that. What about going to my home instead of yours? You could stay with my dad in Maine; save yourself from having to go home… well… you know."

"Divorced and alone?"

"Well, I wasn't going to say it."

"Won't your dad be disappointed?"

"In me?"

"Yes, in you! I'm your superior officer."

"Not to mention married to someone else." He chuckled when she tried to back away, "Sorry! Which part of that is disappointing?"

She rolled her eyes and punched him in the arm.

"Fine, fine! We'll tell him you're a floozy I met a bar; much more believable that way."

She raised a fist to punch him again and he held up both hands in surrender.

"I'm kidding! Look, my dad will be over the moon about a grandchild. He's a big supporter of procreation, taught me everything I know."

"Charming." She stood between his legs, fiddling with his dog tags, thinking. After a minute, she added, "I'll think about it."

"Good."

Suddenly, the door swung open and Radar appeared in the doorframe. If he was surprised to see them standing in such an intimate position, he hid it well.

"Choppers!" he announced before disappearing again.

Hawkeye and Margaret exchanged a look and followed him out of the office, heading toward the helipad.

"We'll continue this discussion later," he said as they rounded the corner and pushed open the outside door.

She nodded, "Fine. To be continued."

* * *

 _12 hours later…_

The mess tent was crowded when Hawkeye and BJ finally dragged themselves out of bed. Klinger, dressed in his Sunday finest, slapped a ladleful of grits and something brown and firm in color (BJ's best guess was sausage, Hawkeye thought it resembled part of a jeep tire) onto their plates and shooed them along. They moved toward the coffee carafe.

"Coffee?" BJ asked groggily.

"Where?" Hawkeye responded, looking around.

"Ha. Ha." He rolled his eyes and filled his own mug with the watery coffee-like substance. The two men made their way to an open table and sat down. "You seem to be feeling better," BJ commented. "Did you talk to her?"

"There were some words spoken," Hawkeye replied. "I definitely don't feel great about it yet, but at least we're in forward motion."

"So…"

"So…?"

"Are you…?"

"No."

"No?"

"No." Hawkeye tried to chew the jeep-tire-sausage without success. "She doesn't want to wait around for something that might not work." He stabbed at the meat with his fork and bent one of the tongs. "Who knows when I'll get out of this place."

"And you're fine with that?" BJ swallowed a bite of grits and grimaced.

Hawkeye pushed his plate forward and took a drink of his coffee. "I'm not gonna lie, sometimes there are times that I think we can make it work. But, there are a whole lot of times that argue the other side of the coin."

"So, you're leaving it as…"

"Looks like I'm about to be a father." He grinned

BJ clapped him on the back, "Congratulations."

"What are we celebrating, boys?" Colonel Potter asked as he set his tray down and sat down across from Hawkeye.

"BJ just named me employee of the month," he replied without a second thought.

"He gets a little plaque to hang above his bed and a free parking spot right outside the OR," BJ added.

"If only I had my own army jeep to park there."

"That's for employee of the year, Hawk."

"Good morning, Margaret! Come sit here and save me from these two," Colonel Potter laughed. He looked at her as she sat down and added, "My, you look like a week-old banana. Not feeling well?"

Margaret sat down next to Hawkeye and took a sip of water, shaking her head. "I think it's the sausage."

"If you want to call it that," Hawkeye mumbled.

"Oh Hog Wash," Potter said, sawing at his sausage and taking a big bite, "This is just like how Mrs. Potter makes it."

"If that is true, Colonel, it is a wonder you are still alive," said Charles, sitting down next to him. "And you do look a little peaked, Margaret."

She rolled her eyes, "Can someone change the subject, please?"

"Just ignore them, Major," Hawkeye said with a smile, "They have no idea how to treat a lady."

"You look absolutely stunning this morning, Margaret," BJ added.

"One might say you're even glowing."

She turned sharply and elbowed Hawkeye in the rib cage. He made a loud _'OOMPH'_ sound and she made a face and rubbed her right side.

"Alright, alright," Potter said, "Try to get along."

Hawkeye looked at Margaret and furrowed his brow.

Recovered, she drank the last of her water. Seeing his face, she said, "Turned wrong."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Perhaps you should turn more slowly and hit harder, Margaret," Charles said. "Aim for the spleen. If you're lucky, it might rupture."

"That's good advice," she said with a smirk. Excusing herself to do rounds, she slowly rose from the table and left the mess hall.

BJ and Hawkeye exchanged a look, shrugged, and watched her go.

* * *

 **Note:** Thank you for the kind words. One more chapter to go & I am getting cold feet. Quite frankly, I hate change. Wouldn't it be lovely if these two could walk hand-in-hand into the sunset? See you next time...


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** The Pregnancy of Margaret Houlihan

 **Chapter:** 4

 **Note:** So, I am well-versed in the medical/surgical world, but you'll have to excuse any historical inaccuracy, as I know very little about medicine in the 1950's. This is the last full chapter, but there will be a short epilogue to tie this thing together. Enjoy!

* * *

It had been four hot, long, casualty-free days. Already having spent the morning hitting golf balls from the helipad and the afternoon drinking gin and playing a rousing game of tackle-chess, BJ had rounded up a group to play poker after dinner. As they assembled in the Officer's Club, Hawkeye tossed a deck of cards toward Father Mulkahy, who was still doing his absolute best to avoid direct eye contact. Hawkeye guessed that he considered both himself and Margaret spiritual lost causes, which for his part was fine. Still, he wished the priest would say _something_ to break the ice. And, speaking of Margaret, he thought… where was she?

"Anyone seen Major Houlihan?" he asked.

Nurse Abel set a tray-full of lukewarm beer down on the center of the table. "I knocked on her door and she said not to come in because she has some kind of stomach flu."

Hawkeye and BJ exchanged a look.

"I'll say a prayer for a speedy recovery," Father Mulkahy said as he dealt the cards.

"Hopefully it's just a 24-hour bug," Nurse Abel added. "She's leaving for Tokyo to see Donald in the morning."

Colonel Potter pulled a pocketknife out and started opening the beer bottles. "She's looked sick for a few days already. I'm sure some R & R will do her a world of good."

Hawkeye took a swig of beer, set it back down, and stood. "I'm gonna go check on her."

"Better not get the rest of my unit sick, Captain," Potter said.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about, Sir," he replied as he left the table. When out of earshot, he added, "I doubt she's contagious."

He crossed the compound and stopped at Margaret's door, knocking lightly.

"Come in at your own risk," came her voice.

"I think I'll take my chances," Hawkeye said as he pulled open the door.

Inside, Margaret sat at the boudoir with a bucket in her lap and a full glass of water sitting on the table in front of her.

"Hi," he said. "You look terrible."

In response, she threw up into the bucket, shoulders shaking.

Hawkeye crouched down next to her and pulled her hair back as she vomited again. He touched her forehead, which felt moist and warm under his fingertips. "How long has this been going on?" he asked, handing her the glass of water.

She took it, drank a sip, and immediately threw up again.

He held her hair until she was done and then set her emesis-filled bucket down on the floor. Turning her chair toward him, he pulled her bottom eyelids down one at a time and examined her mucous membranes. She seemed to sway a little in the chair.

"We need to get some fluid into you." He held her wrist and counted her heart rate.

She waved her hand in the air in dismissal and stood up, "I just need to sleep."

He caught her before she fell. "Your mucous membranes are dry, your pulse is fast, and you feel feverish. This is called dehydration, Margaret." He wrapped her arm around his neck and directed her toward the door, opening it with his hip. "Either you let me fix this now, or I'll wait until you're unconscious and drag you to post-op by your cute little feet."

"You think my feet are cute?"

"They're definitely cuter than my feet."

The two moved slowly toward the surgical tent, Margaret leaning heavily on Hawkeye. When they got to the doors, she stumbled momentarily and he easily lifted her off her feet and carried her into post-op. Setting her gently down on the nearest bed, he started gathering supplies from the cabinets. "Where do you nurses keep the saline?" he asked, looking through the bins.

"There's Lactated Ringers in the warmer," she answered in a small voice.

He flipped the door open and grabbed a glass bottle, "That'll work." Sitting down in a chair next to Margaret's bed, he wrapped a tourniquet around her arm and pressed his fingers lightly into her skin, searching for a vein.

"Do you need me to get one of nurses to start that for you, Doctor?" she asked with a weak smile.

He rolled his eyes, "Gimme a break, starting an IV is like riding a bike. This, I can do. It's all the other stuff I'm not so sure about."

She winced as the needle punctured her skin. "What other stuff?"

"Raising a kid, for starters." He made eye contact with her briefly before turning to hang the glass bottle on the pole. Flicking it gently, it started to flow. "There you go; you'll be good as new before seeing Donald tomorrow. I added some promethazine for the nausea, but it'll make you sleepy."

She exhaled and leaned back against the pillow. "Thanks. I'll need to be in tip-top shape to have _that_ conversation."

"What are you going to tell him?"

She shook her head. "I don't know yet."

Hawkeye grabbed a pillow off a nearby bed and settled into the chair, shifting uncomfortably.

"Hawk, you don't have to stay here. I'll be fine."

"What kind of doctor would I be if I left a patient in post-op alone?" He moved the chair closer to the bed and propped his feet up on the edge. "Besides, I have to switch that bottle over and hang a new one in twenty minutes."

"I am completely capable of doing that myself, Captain."

"Hush, Margaret," he said, closing his eyes, "I'm trying to sleep."

A few minutes went by before either spoke again.

"Hawkeye?"

"Yeah?" he replied without opening his eyes.

"I… I thought about that thing we talked about a few weeks ago."

He opened his eyes and looked at her, "And?"

"I think I'd like to go to Crabapple Cove. If your dad will have me." She rolled onto her side to face him.

He grinned, "I'll clear it with him as soon as Radar can get him on the phone." He pulled the blanket further up, covering her shoulders.

"And Hawkeye?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you'll be a fine father."

He chuckled. "Well, we'll see about that."

She nodded and closed her eyes again. It wasn't long before her breathing was even and she was lightly snoring. A few minutes later, Hawkeye stood and grabbed the second bottle of fluid, easily switching it out and settling back into the chair.

This is how BJ found them a few hours later. Margaret, asleep in a hospital bed, Hawkeye nestled awkwardly in the chair next to her. BJ shook him lightly.

He rubbed his eyes and glanced at Margaret, still sleeping.

"You want me to sit with her for a while?" BJ asked.

He shook his head, "What time is it?"

"Zero-one hundred hours."

"Who won?"

"Mulkahy."

"Figures." He lifted the blanket carefully off Margaret, searching for her wrist. Finding it, he counted her pulse for a few seconds. "Heart rate is better," he squinted at her face in the dim light, "Mucous membranes are moist again."

"Dehydration?"

He nodded, "She's been sick for a couple days. Grab me a gauze pad and I'll pull this IV out."

BJ leaned over and grabbed gauze and tape from a nearby drawer. "Peg was pretty sick for a few weeks when she was pregnant with Erin. I think she lost about fifteen pounds during her first trimester."

Margaret didn't even flinch as Hawkeye pulled the catheter out of her arm and taped a small piece of gauze in place.

"Hopefully this will be the end of it," he said. "I'm gonna carry her back to bed. It'll probably be much more comfortable than post-op." He wrapped the blanket tighter around her sleeping form and lifted her out of the bed before adding, "And fewer questions."

"When are you gonna tell Colonel Potter?" BJ moved a rolling tray out of Hawkeye's way as he walked.

Margaret stirred slightly and laid her head on his shoulder, "After she gets back from Tokyo." He shifted her weight and crossed the room toward the door. "It'll be weird not having her around to yell at me anymore."

BJ held the door open and both men exited the tent into the night. "I hope her family takes it easy on her."

"She's going to Crabapple Cove to stay with my dad," Hawkeye said.

"Oh _really_?"

"Don't give me that look."

"You can't even _see_ my look. It's pitch black out here!"

"I don't have to see your face to see your face." Hawkeye grunted as he stopped in front of Margaret's tent and let BJ open the door for them. "It's the obvious choice."

"What makes Crabapple Cove the obvious choice?" He pulled the covers down on Margaret's bed and stepped back to let Hawkeye lay her down.

"I won't be there to take care of her, but at least my dad can. It's his grandchild." He pulled the blankets back up and Margaret nestled down into the pillow without waking up. "Goodnight, sleeping beauty."

The two men exited Margaret's tent and made their way back toward The Swamp.

"I have to say, I'm impressed, Hawk. You've really stepped up."

"I am just as much to blame as she is for this mess," he said. "Maybe even more so. I could have stopped it at any point, but… my brain chose not to intervene."

"I hate it when that happens."

"BJ, your brain doesn't seem to have that same problem."

"Not here, at least."

Hawkeye chuckled. "Spoken like a true married gentleman." He clapped BJ on the back. "The least I can do is try to make this less difficult for her." Pushing the door open to their tent, he pulled his boots off and fell into bed. "Besides, there's nothing I can do to soften the blow from Lt. Colonel Penobscott."

"That's a battle she has to fight on her own."

* * *

 _Five days later…_

"Open your mouth and say 'Haaaa-llelujah I'm alive,'" Hawkeye said, as he pushed a young soldier's tongue down with a tongue depressor and peered into his throat. "You're lucky the medics found you so quickly. A little more blood in your trachea and you'd be singing at the Pearly Gates."

"Captain Pierce!" Radar came bursting into Post-Op.

"Over here, Corporal." He waved with one arm and with the other he pressed the bell of his stethoscope to the marine's chest and listened.

"I got your-."

"Give me just a second, Radar," he shushed, "All I can hear of his upper lobes is your voice."

"Sorry, Sir, but I-."

"Clear as day," Hawkeye said, wrapping the stethoscope around his neck and securing the dressing on the man's chest. "Not this day because it's fairly cloudy, but any other day with sparkling clear-."

"Captain Pierce!" Radar shouted, "I finally got your dad on the telephone!"

Hawkeye stopped talking and jumped up, "Radar, why didn't you say that?"

"I tried to!"

"BJ!" he yelled across the room, "Take over for me, my dad's on the phone!" He walked briskly through the tent and pushed open the door, jogging toward the office.

* * *

Colonel Potter was signing a pile of supply requests for ICOR when he heard the outer door open. Figuring it was Radar returning, he neatly stacked the completed pages together and moved toward the door. If his clerk was busy, he would just leave the pile on the desk. When he looked through the window, however, he saw it was Hawkeye on the phone.

"Dad, it's so good to hear your voice," he was saying.

There was something in his Chief Surgeon's tone that made him pause briefly. He had a sneaking suspicion—probably related to his many years as a Colonel—that something had been going on the last few weeks. It wasn't that he chose to ignore it; he just figured that when his comrades were ready to talk about it, they would come to him.

"I have to ask you something. A big something, actually." Hawkeye said.

The Colonel briefly considered going back to his desk and out of hearing range, but was stopped by Hawkeye's sudden admission.

"I'm just going to say it, Dad. I'm thirty-years-old and this is the most difficult thing I've ever said out loud." He seemed to take a deep breath. "I got… one of the nurses pregnant and I'm hoping you'll let her come stay with you until I'm out."

Potter sucked in a breath. A momentary flash of anger waved through him and he moved closer to the door, ready to push it open and howl at his stupid, thoughtless Doctor… until he saw Hawkeye through the window. He was leaning back in the chair with his eyes closed, listening into the phone, looking quite miserable.

"Dad, I'm a doctor, but I don't think I need to explain how it…" He let out a breath. "I don't know yet. This is as far as we have gotten." He paused, listening. "I… it's a little more complicated than that. I can't marry her because… well… for starters, she's married to someone else."

Hawk pulled the phone back from his ear and Potter could hear the shouting from his place behind the door. A sudden realization dawned on him; Hawkeye and Major Houlihan's trip behind enemy lines ten weeks ago, Radar's damn rabbit, her sudden illness and trip to Tokyo….

"Thanks, dad." Hawkeye was running a hand through his hair. "You don't have to be done yelling at me, but I appreciate the help." He leaned forward onto Radar's desk. "Love you too." He hung up the phone and let out a long breath. After a minute, without turning, said, "You can come out now, but I think I've had enough stern 'talking-to's' for one day, Colonel."

He pushed open the door and walked through it. "Sorry for eavesdropping, son."

"Sorry for giving you such good material." He leaned back in the chair and turned to face his superior officer. "And sorry for not coming to you sooner. Telling you was going to be as hard as telling my dad. I'm kind of glad I killed two birds with one stone."

"How is Margaret doing?" he asked, moving toward Hawkeye and perching on the edge of the desk, arms folded.

"A little worse than me," he answered. "She's the one that _wants_ to be here and because of me, her army career is over."

"It takes two to tango, so they say."

"So they do." Hawkeye slouched a little more and leaned his chin on his fist. He looked exhausted.

"What I don't understand is how this _happened_."

Hawkeye raised his eyebrows.

Potter waved a hand in the air and added, "Well I know how _that_ happens, but how did it happen to two medical professionals?"

Just then, Radar poked his head into the office. "Sirs, Major Houlihan is back from Tokyo." He looked at Hawkeye, "I just… thought you might want to know."

"Bring her in here, Radar."

"Yes, Sir."

"Oh, this should be fun," Hawkeye said.

The Colonel unfolded his arms. "Might as well get it over with, Son," he said softly.

Moments later, Margaret appeared, trailing Radar. Seeing Colonel Potter and Hawkeye sitting at Radar's desk, she groaned.

"You guessed it. The jig is up," Hawkeye said with a faux grin.

Colonel Potter shoved off the desk and pushed open the door to his office, holding it for them. "Come on, you two. Have a seat." He walked around his desk and sat. Margaret and Hawkeye followed suit. "I guess I should start with 'congratulations.'"

"Thank you, Sir," she said, not looking up.

"When were you going to tell me, Major?"

"After I told Donald, Sir."

"Stop this 'Sir' stuff." He leaned forward, entwining his fingers and setting his hands on the desk. "How did it go with Lt. Colonel Penobscott?"

"As good as could be expected," she replied, briefly making eye contact with Colonel Potter. "I may have… left out a few things."

Hawkeye, for his part, was leaning forward on his elbows, not taking his eyes off Margaret.

"The pregnancy, I assume?"

"I decided he didn't need to know that part."

"Probably better that way," Colonel Potter said. "The last thing we need is for him to show up and retaliate. Not even Pierce deserves that." He put on his glasses and picked up a pen. "I'll have to start the dismissal paperwork. We sure are going to miss you."

She nodded, eyes glistening. Wiping them with her fingertips, she said, "The feeling is mutual, Sir."

"Make sure you let us know how everything goes. Send some pictures."

She nodded. "I will, Sir."

"I'm sure the two of you have a lot to talk about. Dismissed." He pulled a sheet of paper out as Margaret and Hawkeye stood.

Hawkeye held the door open for her and she exited through it, still wiping her eyes. As they stepped out into the darkness, neither said anything. They walked side-by-side through the compound wordlessly, slowing their steps as they neared Margaret's tent.

"Well," said Hawkeye quietly, "This is you. Goodnight, Margaret." He gave her a small smile and turned toward The Swamp.

Margaret pushed open the door, holding it for a second. "Hawkeye?"

"Yeah?" He turned to face her, pulling his jacket tighter around his shoulders to keep out the chill.

"Will you… stay with me tonight?"

"Margaret, what will people say?" He chuckled at her expression. "I guess that doesn't much matter now, does it?" Following her inside, Hawkeye took off his jacket and hung it on a crooked nail by the door. Sitting down lightly on the bed, he started undoing the laces on his boots.

She shrugged off her jacket and pulled out pajamas. "I'd ask you to turn around, but I guess that doesn't matter much either."

"If it matters to you, I'll turn around," he said, averting his eyes. He heard her rustling around as he pulled down the covers and situated himself in her bed.

A few seconds later, he heard her open and close a drawer. "You can look now." She brushed out her blonde hair and tied it into a knot at the top of her head.

Hawkeye held the blanket up as she got into bed next to him and stretched herself out, legs brushing his. Not really knowing what to do next, he laid his head down on his arm and covered both of them up. She switched off the light and fluffed the pillow.

Their bodies were pressed together in the small bed and he could see the rise and fall of her chest. Realizing suddenly that he was staring at her chest, he turned his face into her hair. This was another mistake, as her hair seemed to smell like flowers, rain, and the sea-salt air of Crabapple Cove. He exhaled loudly.

"Would you just relax?" she said dryly.

"I'm trying, Margaret, but your hair smells good enough to eat and I have a difficult enough time keeping myself together when we're not _pressed_ together."

She snorted. "Goodnight, Hawkeye."

He smiled. "Goodnight, Margaret."

* * *

 _Six weeks later…_

Margaret knocked lightly on the door of The Swamp. She tugged at her jacket, now noticeably tight around the middle and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

"It's open," came Hawkeye's voice.

She walked through the door to find Hawkeye and BJ playing a game of chess. They both looked up and smiled.

"Hey, you all packed?" Hawkeye asked.

"Peg and Erin are all set to meet you at the airport."

"I'm excited to spend a little time with them before flying to Maine," she said, leaning against the support beam.

"Peg is excited to meet you," BJ said, moving his Queen and taking one of Hawkeye's rooks. "Hey, is that a Pinard?"

She held up the wooden, horn-shaped object and nodded. "Nurse Abel brought it back for me from Tokyo." She turned toward Hawkeye. "I thought maybe you'd like to… listen to the baby's heartbeat before I leave?"

Hawkeye stood and took the pinard from Margaret's hand, examining it carefully. "I haven't seen one of these since medical school." Putting it to his lips and using it as a megaphone, he yelled, "Might as well give it a whirl."

Margaret rolled her eyes and sat down on his bed, leaning back against the pillow. After situating herself, she pulled her t-shirt up over her abdomen, which was now slightly rounded and obviously pregnant.

Hawkeye placed his palm gently on her belly. They made eye contact for a few seconds before he started to feel around with both hands, looking for the baby's back. After a few seconds of intense concentration, he placed the wide end of the instrument flush against her abdomen and the narrow end to his ear.

"I'll leave you two alone for a minute," BJ said. "See you in the Officer's Club in ten, Hawk."

Hawkeye nodded, still focusing on the task at hand. Margaret, for her part, tried to lie completely still.

A minute went by before Hawkeye whispered, "I hear it." He paused for a minute, listening intently. "I hear it! There's really something in there thumping happily away. I wonder if it even knows there's a war going on out here!"

Margaret smiled and ran a hand through his dark mop of hair, thumb stopping to massage his temple lightly.

He listened for another minute before straightening up and handing her the pinard. "You'll have to thank the nurses from me," he said.

She handed it back. "Keep it here. Maybe you'll get some use out of it if another stray pregnant woman comes along."

He nodded and set it down on the bedside table. Turning back toward her, he pushed himself up and sat on the edge, moving her legs over. "My dad is all ready to meet you at the airport in Maine. He already has a crib set up in my old room."

She smiled. "It's incredibly nice of him to let me stay."

"Don't let him take the Myrna Loy poster down, it's been on my wall since I was fifteen."

"That's just what a baby needs on his wall," she said with amusement.

"Or her wall."

"Or her wall."

They sat silently for a few seconds before Margaret pulled her t-shirt back down over her abdomen and sat up.

Hawkeye reached up and placed a hand on her cheek. "I guess this is goodbye for a while. You know, I am really terrible at goodbyes. I hate them. I hate that you're leaving and taking my baby with you. I hate that my dad is going to meet him before I do."

"Or her."

He nodded. "Or her."

She gave him a small smile. "You just concentrate on staying away from enemy fire and we'll figure everything else out when you get back."

He moved his hand to the back of her head and pulled her face closer, resting his forehead against hers. "I feel like this is the part where I should tell you that I love you and can't wait until I see you again."

She shook her head. "I've seen what happens to relationships during a war." Looking up at him, she offered a small smile. "Look at Trapper, Frank, and even Donald and I! Cheaters, every one."

"Are you worried about me, or you?" he asked, dropping his hand and meeting her eyes.

"Me… you… I'm being realistic. War gets lonely, Hawkeye. You know this just as well as I do."

"What about BJ, Colonel Potter, and Henry Blake," he said. "Successful, happy marriages, every one."

"And even they are tempted at times." She swung her legs around him and stood. "You're just going to have be okay with a 'maybe' at this point, Captain." She turned and took a step toward the door.

He stood and grabbed her wrist, stopping her abruptly. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her toward him. "And you're just going to have to be okay with a goodbye kiss, Major." Placing a hand behind her head, he pressed their lips together. Her eyes fluttered closed and he felt her arms wrap lazily around his neck, body melting into his. A few seconds later, he pulled back and let her go.

"Well," she said, momentarily unsteady on her feet. "I never said _that_ part didn't work."

"You just keep that in mind when you're in Crabapple Cove getting wooed by lonely, attractive young men… back from the war… looking for-."

Margaret rolled her eyes. "I will be a little too busy to worry about the men of Maine, Pierce."

He chuckled. "Thank goodness for small favors. Come on, Hot Lips," he said with a grin, throwing an arm around her. "I do believe we have a going-away party to attend."

The Officer's Club was decorated with the traditional medical supplies; packing gauze as crepe paper, one-piece infant outfits hung with Allis Clamps, and latex glove balloons. By 21:00, the punch had been spiked with gin and half the camp was dancing to music played by Father Mulkahy on the piano. By the time the jeep pulled up to take Margaret to Seoul, she had been thoroughly hugged and cried on by the entire unit. Misty eyed, they waved goodbye as the jeep pulled away from the 4077, under the sign that read "Best Care Anywhere."

* * *

 _Twenty weeks later…_

"Hawkeye!"

Radar burst through the door to Post-op and looked around. The OR had been buzzing a few hours ago and now Recovery was in business. Doctors and nurses bustled from bed to bed, checking wounds and taking blood pressures. Across the room, Hawkeye was sitting at a patient's bedside, adjusting a large bandage wrapped around his leg.

"Hawkeye!" he called louder.

The Captain turned and, seeing Radar's expression, leapt off the bed. "Is it my dad?" he yelled back, crossing the room in a couple strides.

Radar nodded excitedly. "He's on the phone! All the way from Crabapple Cove! Says it's important."

BJ, sitting on a nearby bed listening to a sleeping man's heart rate, took his stethoscope out of his ears. "Did Margaret have the baby?" he asked.

Hawkeye pushed open the door and hurried out. "Could be, it's about that time!"

BJ shoved his stethoscope in the pocket of his lab coat and followed Hawkeye out of Post-Op, matching him stride for stride.

When they got to the office, Colonel Potter was already there, looking giddy. He held the phone out to Hawkeye, who took it without haste.

"Dad!" he said excitedly. Listening for a minute, he covered the mouthpiece and relayed the message, "Everything went great, every one is healthy… It's a boy?! It's a boy!" His eyes misted over and he choked back a happy sob as BJ thumped him on the back. "She delivered this morning at eight in the morning… my dad was on call and got to catch him!"

Hawkeye put a finger in his ear as everyone in the room talked animatedly and hugged one another.

"How is she doing? Can I talk to her?" He paused for a moment, before, "Margaret! It's so good to hear your voice!" His own voice sounded thick with emotion. "How are _we_ doing? You're the one that just delivered a baby!" He ' _uh-huh'ed'_ a few times before covering the mouth piece again, "She's tired, but doing great… looking forward to getting out of the hospital." He uncovered the speaker. "Did you decide on a name?" He was quiet for a moment, listening to the answer and nodding. "Benjamin Franklin Pierce." A single tear ran down his face and wiped it away with his sleeve. "No, no! Of course that's fine. I've never been so happy. I just wish I was there."

The men in the room exchanged knowing glances. Colonel Potter held out a cigar and Hawkeye plucked it out of his hand.

"Yeah, I miss you too. Tell Benny I can't wait to meet him. And don't grow too much without me!" He rolled the cigar between his thumb and forefinger. "Goodbye, Margaret." Hanging up the phone gently, he leaned backward against the desk. With a smile, he held the cigar up. "Well, everyone, I'm a dad!" Colonel Potter, BJ, and Radar encircled him, clapping him on the back and giving him long, heavy hugs.

As Hawkeye settled back and smoked his celebratory cigar, he felt overjoyed and completely terrified of what lay ahead.


	5. Epilogue

_Ten months later…_

As the plane came to a stop on the tarmac, Hawkeye stood and pulled his bag out of the overhead compartment and replaced his hat on his head. Being surrounded by so many people in civilian clothes made him feel uncomfortable, especially given that they were either staring at his uniform or purposefully averting their eyes. Coming home from war was definitely one of the most bizarre experiences of his life.

Another bizarre experience had been leaving the 4077, with the rest of the unit, to go their separate ways. Peace had finally arrived in Korea. He had spent the entire war hoping for a discharge. When it had finally happened, Hawkeye hadn't expected to feel anything except excitement. Leaving the mobile hospital, however, also meant leaving the family he had grown to love over the past few years.

As he walked down the aisle, he caught a glimpse of his dad and Margaret out one of the small windows, standing side-by-side on the far end of the tarmac. Hawkeye quickened his pace, smiling apologetically as he passed the elderly woman in front of him, moving at snail speed. As he got to the top of the stairs and ducked through the door, he squinted in the sunlight at his family and grinned. In Margaret's arms was a dark-haired baby, the same one that filled all of Hawkeye's dreams at night, doing his best to wriggle free. A second later, Margaret's eyes found his across the long expanse of runway. Her face broke out in a smile and she nudged his father, whose expression mirrored hers. Lifting his arm, he waved, emotion bubbling up inside his chest.

He crossed the tarmac in as few steps as he could take, rounding the fence in record speed. When he reached his family, the mist in his eyes was already starting to obstruct his vision. Margaret looked beautiful, dressed in a simple light-blue shirtdress, her blonde hair blowing free in the warm breeze. The small boy in her arms, now about ten-months-old, was watching him approach with huge, interested eyes. His cheeks were rosy, rosebud mouth open slightly and revealing four white teeth.

Dropping his bag heavily on the ground in front of her, he didn't even pause before wrapping his arms around both of them and kissing Margaret on the forehead. "Hey," he said. "Long time no see. Maine agrees with you."

"Hi." Her smile was huge, tears suddenly rolling down her cheeks. She wiped at them with her free arm. "I don't know why I'm crying," she laughed.

His laugh and tears mirrored her own. "I don't think I've been happier to see anyone in my whole life."

"This is Benny," she said, smoothing his wild black hair.

Hawkeye reached out and touched his son's hand lightly, not wanting to scare him. "Hey, Ben." The tears were running down his face unchecked now and he made no attempt to wipe them away. "I'm your dad." His voice broke.

Ben, for his part, grinned. He obviously had no grasp of the situation but was thoroughly enjoying the attention. His little fist wrapped around his father's fingers. Hawkeye laughed again and kissed both Ben and Margaret's heads in quick succession before turning to his own father.

"Hey, dad."

Daniel Pierce smiled and wrapped his arms around Hawkeye, hugging him tightly. "Welcome home, son," he said. "It's been far too long."

* * *

A few hours later, Hawkeye laid on the bed next to Benny, watching him sleep. The rhythmic rise and fall of his tiny chest was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. And, admittedly, he had spent a lot of time watching the rise and fall of people's chests. Every few minutes, the little boy would sigh heavily and make little grunting noises. Hawkeye thought his heart would explode with every beat in his chest. It took every ounce of his restraint to not lift the boy's pajama-clad body off the bed just to hold him for another few minutes. He finally understood what B.J. had been talking about for the past few years; fatherhood was something that transcended his own personhood.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door scraping open. Margaret quietly peeked into the room, smiling when she saw the two of them. Moving silently, she wrapped her hand around his bare ankle and rubbed her thumb back and forth across the top of his foot.

"You got him to sleep," she whispered.

He propped his head up on a hand, still watching Ben. "I read him _Goodnight Moon_ twice, but he fell asleep to _The Surgeon's Handbook, 9_ _th_ _ed._ " He motioned to the closed books on the bedside table. "Can't say I blame him; we had the 8th edition in med school. It was the best prescription I had for insomnia."

Margaret chuckled, "I'm going to put him in his crib."

He waved her off. "Let me do it, I need the practice." Rolling himself easily into a sitting position, he reached underneath Ben's sleeping form and awkwardly lifted him off the bed. He slowly made his way across the room to the crib in the corner. Adjusting his grip on the child, he shifted his weight and gently lowered him into his bed. Ben made a grunting noise, grabbed his blanket, and rolled onto his stomach.

"I could watch him all night," Hawkeye said, staring down in to the crib.

Margaret moved to stand behind him and placed her hand lightly on his upper back. "There's plenty of time for that, Captain."

Hawkeye startled at the use of his title. They made eye contact in the dark room. "Sorry," he said after a minute, "I'm not used to hearing people throw that around at home in the U.S. of A."

"Old habits, I guess." she said, "I should probably find something else to call you now."

Hawkeye looked down at Benny one more time before following Margaret out of the room, closing the door quietly behind them. "You could just call me Doctor," he said with a grin. "Or just 'doc' for short."

She elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ow," he grunted, "Oh! I could call you 'nurse,' you could call me 'doctor.' Sounds like a fun game, don't you think?"

Side-by-side they made their way down the stairs and into the family room where his dad was sitting, reading the evening newspaper.

"Sounds like he went down without a peep," Daniel said, folding the paper up and setting it on the end table.

"I read to him out of…."

" _The Surgeon's Handbook,"_ his dad finished. "Most boring reading material in the house. Gets him every time."

Hawkeye smiled and loosened his tie before making his way to the mini bar. "Anyone up for a nightcap?" he asked, lifting a bottle of brandy off the cart and giving it a shake.

His father shook his head and stood, stretching. "No thanks. I have to run over to Doris Leawood's for an hour or so. Bessie-Louise is going to deliver a baby any day and I'd hate to miss it."

"I thought her daughter's name was Thelma?" he replied, pouring himself and Margaret a drink.

"Thelma's her daughter. Bessie-Louise is her cow."

Hawkeye coughed, sputtering mid-sip. "I didn't realize you became a part-time veterinarian. Where's Doc Smith?"

"Vacation in Newport."

"He take over for you when you're out?"

"I'm never out," he replied, grabbing his keys off the kitchen table. "See you both… much, much later." Daniel pulled open the front door and stopped momentarily, "If you're… in bed, I won't wake you when I get in." He wagged his eyebrows at his son before disappearing.

The house was suddenly quiet.

It only took a few heartbeats before Hawkeye and Margaret dropped their drinks simultaneously and crossed the room in a few steps, crashing together; his hands in her hair, her arms wrapped tightly around him, lips pressed together.

Breaking the seal on their mouths momentarily, Hawkeye moved to her neck with an urgency he had never felt before. Margaret let out a little moan as his lips moved along her collarbone and she yanked the knot out of his tie, pulling it roughly over his head.

Hawkeye worked the buttons of her dress with fumbling fingers. After a few seconds, she moved his hands and started to undo them herself.

"Sorry," he said. "It's been awhile."

She stopped and looked up at him. "Really?"

He gave her a small smile and nodded. "I'm not going to say it wasn't hard sometimes. But knowing I was coming home to you and my kid made abstinence tolerable." Running his fingers along the edge of her open shirt, he pushed the fabric over her shoulders and stared into her eyes as her dress fluttered to her feet. "Call me Ben."

She looked up at him through her lashes and stepped forward, out of her dress and into his arms.

There was never an official conversation about the status of their relationship. A few weeks after Hawkeye returned stateside, he started working as a surgeon at the V.A. hospital. Although he had been offered a position at Crabapple Cove's community hospital, he found that after a few years in the service (voluntary or not) he was more comfortable surrounded by people who had been through similar experiences. Spending the war putting men back together just so they could risk their lives again left him with a certain degree of guilt. This time, he decided, he would dedicate his career to _really_ putting them back together; knee surgeries so they could dance with their wives, carpal tunnel releases so they could enjoy tennis and woodworking and play the piano, as well as the frequent emergency surgery that once again made him feel that he was making a difference. Margaret, for her part, took a teaching position at the local nurses college, although she admittedly missed the OR.

They bought a house a short drive from the Gulf and spent the remainder of the summer walking the rocky coastline and watching Benny splash in the cold water and eat sand. The next summer, they married on that same beach, saying their vows under the warm Maine sun, in front of Father Mulkahy and the rest of the 4077. Hawkeye said later that it was the best day of his life, not only because he and Margaret were deliciously happy to finally tie the knot, but also because the entire unit was able to make it, even Frank Burns (Margaret insisted he be invited, as leaving anyone out wouldn't be right), who only showed up because he thought the entire thing was one big joke. Hawkeye was mildly amused to watch Frank cry into his champagne glass when he realized they were, in fact, getting married AND already had a child together. They danced and celebrated until the sun sunk below the horizon, at which time, Trapper tore off his tux and dove naked into the salty water. Shortly thereafter, the rest of the troupe followed him, even Radar undressed to his skivvies and joined in.

They had a lovely wedding weekend, enjoying the company of their friends and family. BJ and Peg were the last to leave, spending an extra few days with Hawkeye and Margaret. It was Peg's first weekend away from Erin, and their first vacation away from home since BJ's return from Korea. It was no surprise to Margaret when, eight weeks later, Peg called and excitedly shared that they were expecting their second baby.

And so life rolled on beautifully. Although both Margaret and Hawkeye were right to worry about the differences between them (sometimes their arguments were loud enough to be officially named; an example being the Wallpaper Conflict of 1954), they also were forever bonded over a shared experience. Korea never left them; the pain, the joy, the friendship, and the relief at finally being able to live their lives left them with a shared story. And although their story began in a warzone, their shared life was one of peace and joy. It was all either of them could have asked for.

 _The end._


End file.
